


A Matter of the Heart

by bibliolatry



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Case Fic, Gen, Murder, Platonic Kissing, Platonic Male/Male Relationships, Platonic Romance, a bit OOC
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-13
Updated: 2014-03-13
Packaged: 2018-01-15 14:15:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1307794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bibliolatry/pseuds/bibliolatry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four women dead and they’ve all got one thing in common: Dr. John H. Watson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Matter of the Heart

**Author's Note:**

> This is a WIP and will be a slow upload. I'm trying to get the rest of City of Corpses out, but I seem to be at a standstill for that one.
> 
> Not edited or Brit-picked. Tags will be added as chapters are.

He stared down at the partially covered body that lay on the blood soaked carpet. It was inconceivable how just fourteen hours ago he’d seen this woman’s smile, laughed with her, and now her lifeless form lay with eyes widened in fear and a silent scream echoing from her opened mouth. He knew, not matter what Sherlock or Lestrade or anyone else tried to say, that this was his fault. Four women in seven months, each with a connection to him.

The first had been before he’d met Sherlock. Raschelle Denmann, a lovely thirty-two year old receptionist with curly brunette hair and striking bright green eyes, had agreed to go on a blind date with him. She was a friend of Clara’s who had been fighting with both of them for the entire month he’d been home from Afghanistan. They’d met at a small café, deciding that a coffee date was perfect for their first meeting. It had been pleasant and he was seriously contemplating asking her to meet him for dinner the following weekend. She’d been killed before he had the chance. Her body was found the day after their date, hair chopped short with the strands laying around the corpse and several deep cuts in her torso and along her arms. 

Two months after Raschelle came Leta Thompson, a twenty-nine year old bottle-blonde, blue eyed receptionist that was a recent hire at Ella’s clinic. They hadn’t even gone out, just chatted while he’d waited to be called back into Ella’s office. He’d been contemplating asking her for drinks, but had never gotten around to it. The day after he’d met Sherlock and shot the cabbie to save him Leta had been found in her apartment in the same condition as Raschelle. Lestrade had called Sherlock in. Two murders conducted in the same manner with no signs of a break-in and no evidence left behind by the killer.

Things were busy for the next three months and John had been unable to do more than chat with the occasional love interest; nothing serious enough to consider asking anyone on a date. The third, Kathleen Toloni, wasn’t even serious. She had been visiting family that had moved to London from Italy and he’d offered to buy her a cup of coffee. She was thirty-six years old with a head of vibrant red hair and honey colored eyes; such a lovely lady. John had enjoyed her company for the first three days of the two weeks she’d be in London. On the fourth, when they were to meet for dinner, she didn’t show. He’d contacted her cousin to see if he knew anything and discovered that she’d been found in the same condition as the first two. He’d found her when he went to her hotel room to help her prepare for their date that night. He told John about how much she’d been looking forward to it and that she thought he may have been the one. John wasn’t surprised that the cuts along her body were more ragged than those of the women before her. She had been his most serious relationship since he returned from Afghanistan.

Now there was Lori Callahan, thirty-nine year old waitress from Angelo’s. He’d been on four dates with her. He looked up at Sherlock as he waltzed around the room looking for clues. Sherlock’s eyes kept returning to the body, a barely visible look of hurt hidden in his eyes. He’d never admit it, but he was rather fond of Lori. She had a beautiful personality and could snipe back at Sherlock just as hard as he hit her. She was the first woman Sherlock actually put effort towards not driving away with his icy personality and John was ecstatic that they got along as well as Sherlock _could_ get along with someone.

“John?” his head turned and his eyes locked with the dark brown eyes of DI Greg Lestrade. “Are you okay?”

John shook his head and walked out of the room. He wandered down the short hall, twisting to the side to avoid colliding with a PC that was heading in the opposite direction, and stopped in the center of the living room. He glanced around at the pictures that decorated the one bedroom flat: a combination of old family photos, high school photos and the occasional current group of friends. From the few times John had chatted with Lori he knew she didn’t have any living relatives. Her parents had passed away her second year of Uni and she’d dropped out to take care of her thirteen year old brother who’d taken his own life before he’d turned eighteen. At least there was no family to inform this time.

Sherlock stepped into the living room, his concerned gaze trained on his best friend. “John,” his voice barely carried, “it’s time to go. I have a few things I need to look into.”

John turned to Sherlock, his eyes catching with the tender blue that held a glacial distance for anyone that wasn’t John. He gave a slight nod and followed Sherlock from the flat. As they stood waiting for the elevator, John kept his eyes on his feet, his mind whirling.

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, I'm not sure I'm happy where this chapter ended, but I'm going to leave it here for now. I'll likely wind up adding more before posting the next bit, but like I said, this one's a slow upload. Please be patient with me, there's a lot going on in my life at the moment. Thanks!


End file.
